


Drunk Stiles

by pine67



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drunk Stiles, Kind Derek, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 03:10:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3513035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pine67/pseuds/pine67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I mean, no! I meant thank god I didn’t bother anyone else. Not that I’m glad you live alone and single. Because, you know, you could live alone and have a long distance relationship. Or you could be single but living with a family member. I’m just saying, there’s no correlation. None, whatsoever… Even if there was, I mean… I wouldn’t care. Cuz, that’s none of my business. Wow. Fuck. Why am I still talking?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunk Stiles

It must be ass o’clock in the morning when the doorbell rings because Derek’s room is pitch black and every part of him screams and protests when he sits up in bed.

Once he’s conscious enough, he realizes he should probably go and check who it is because anyone who would be up and about, banging on his door at – fuck four!? – four o’clock in the morning, must be in some sort of trouble.

Although, considering he has no one in his life who would think of him first during an emergency, he didn’t have a clue who it could be.

Making his way through the house he speaks as loud as he can, “I’m coming! Hold on!” He reaches the door and looks through the peephole. The only thing he sees is a slumped figure against the door and an arm held up. Ready to start banging again, presumable.  

“Who is it?” Yea, Derek isn’t crazy enough to open the door for a serial killer in the middle of the night.

“Uh, it’s me. Stiles.” Derek doesn’t know a Stiles. He might be tired and sleepy as fuck but he’d remember if he knew someone with a name like that. Before he could make a decision to ignore him, though, Stiles starts talking through the door again. “M’not a stalker, I swear! Just… nowhere else to go.” He suddenly sneezes and whines. He _whines_. “Dude could you le’me in for a moment? It’s fucking COLD.”

Of course Derek is still wary, but he opens the door anyway. Despite his asshole-ish looking demeanor everyone loves to point out, it really is against his nature to be a jerk.

As soon the door swings open, the guy on the other side loses his balance and falls to the floor with a grunt.

“What the fuck? Are you okay?”

“Dude… I can’t- I don’t even- so tired…” Stiles rolls around for a moment before he tries his best to stand up, but he isn’t successful until Derek holds out a hand.

Once he’s out of the way, Derek closes the door and asks, “What are you doing here? Who _are_ you?”

“I’m Stiles. I had nowhere else to go. And- shit. I think I gave the cab driver a fifty instead of a twenty.” He holds out a twenty as if that would mean anything to Derek. “Fuck… I think I’m gunna throw up.” He grabs his stomach and abruptly turns around, making his way into the house as fast as possible.

“Hold on, where are you going?” Derek attempts to stop him, but Stiles makes an intentional sharp turn at the end of the hallway. By the time he catches up, Derek sees Stiles violently puking into the toilet. Is this really happening?

Derek paces the hallway, not knowing what to do. The logical solution is to let the kid freshen up, give him a water bottle and tell him to hit the road. But is that really the most human thing to do?

When it sounds like Stiles is done emptying his entire body weight into the toilet, Derek hands him a cup of water.

“Thanks.” He drinks the whole thing quickly then groans about the vomit that reached his shirt. He takes it off swiftly and throws it in the garbage.

“What…”

“It’s fine. It wasn’t mine anyway.”

“Okay then… um. What do you mean you had nowhere else to go?”

“What?” Stiles mumbles, and lays down on the tiled floor.

“What do you _mean_ you had nowhere else to go? You said you were in a cab.”

“Yea.”

“So why didn’t you let him take you home?”

Stiles groans and throws an arm over his eyes. “I don’t remember where I live.”

Derek stares, is this kid serious? Something very wrong is going on here. “Are you homeless?”

“NO! Oh god. No no no, I’m not… I’m not homeless.” He laughs. “I’m just… I was just that drunk. So drunk I couldn’t remember where I live.”

“Oh.”

“Could you close the lights?”

“Wha- no. stay awake. You have to stay awake to answer my questions.”

“I did already.”

“No, tell me how it is you arrived at my house instead of, oh I don’t know, a home of someone who _knows_ you. Friends? Parents?” Stiles doesn’t respond so Derek shakes his arm off his head. “Hey.”

He groans - a lot - before he decides to answer. “I used to live here. I moved out two months ago, so it’s the only address I could remember.”

“Oh.” That would explain how he knew exactly where the washroom would be.

“Yea.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“Ugh, I know. I don’t know why I thought it was a cool idea to go out and get shitfaced on my own.”

Derek stands up and sort of hovers over Stiles. The initial rush of adrenaline is now long gone and Derek’s body is starting to protest and crave his bed. So sue him for wanting to get Stiles out as soon as possible.

He heads to the pantry to grab a new water bottle for the kid before he walks back into the now stinky as fuck washroom. “How are you feeling now? Any closer to remembering your real address?”

Stiles doesn’t respond so Derek squats down and nudges him. “Hey.” No response. Figures a stranger would pass out in Derek’s empty house in the middle of the night. It honestly wouldn’t be the first time Derek looked like a murder suspect.

Actually, now that he thinks about it, there could be multiple reasons Stiles is so out of it. What if it was more than just too much alcohol? He could potentially _actually_ die and Derek just doesn’t have time for this.

“Stiles!” he shouts as he slaps his face multiple times.

“Mmmah- What?”

“Are you on something?”

“On the floor.”

“Drugs. Are you on drugs?

Stiles laughs. “Nooo…” he laughs harder, “That’s why I got kicked out of the club. Cuz this guy wouldn’t deal me any and I punched him in the nuts.”

Okay, so he’s naturally crazy.

Derek huffs and makes a decision. “Get up.”

“Dude I can’t even feel my arms.”

Rolling his eyes, Derek rounds one of Stiles’ arms around his neck and securely holds onto his waist. He hauls him up into a standing position in one swift movement.

“Wow, that’s strong. Wait, why are there two of you?”

The kid is so gone and obviously in no condition to be able to make it home safely. Since Derek had just moved into the house a month ago, the guest room isn’t furnished yet. So he has no choice but to lead Stiles to the living room and plop him down onto his nice leather couch.

“Ooooh this is nice. I like this.” Stiles shifts and shuffles, burying himself into the throw pillows as Derek spreads the comforter over him.

“Yea. I like it too. So please, if you feel the need to throw up, don’t do it here.”

“Mhmm,” Stiles mumbles, face now buried into a pillow.

Derek stays standing for a minute. The situation seems too delicate for him to leave and go back to sleep. As a precaution, and to satisfy his anxiety, he pulls the glass coffee table as far away from the couch as possible. Considering the way Stiles’ limbs are thrown all over the place, he seems like the type of guy to roll off the couch in the middle of his sleep.

Finally, his headache leads him away and he falls asleep as soon as he hits the bed.

~~~

The first thing Derek does in the morning is check on Stiles. His prediction turns out true when he notices that Stiles is now sprawled out all over the floor. Derek can’t help but think his soft snoring is sort of… cute.

Weird. He usually just settles for hating people, but his natural response to Stiles is patience. So he lets him be and goes about his own morning routine.

He showers, starts coffee and makes breakfast. By the time he’s cleaning up the dishes he hears a loud groan followed by a raspy, “Oh fuuuuuuck.”

Resisting laughter, Derek walks into the living room and says an awkward, “Hi uh… Good morning.”

Stiles looks at him in surprise. His jaw falls as he claws at his own bare chest. “Why am I shirtless? Did we have _sex_? Who are you? I mean-” Derek’s eyebrows must shoot up very high because Stiles winces, “Sorry. Um… why am I here?”

“You were very _very_ drunk last night.”

“Yea I remember that part…”

“You couldn’t remember your new home address so you told your cab driver to bring you here. Apparently you used to live here a couple of months ago.”

“Oh…” He cranes his head this way and that, finally taking in the familiarity of the room. “Shit.”

“Yup. I’ll grab you a spare shirt.” Derek is about to turn and leave, but he feels like he should clear something up. “Oh and, we didn’t have sex.”

A strange expression takes over Stiles’ face, “Oh.”

Derek slowly heads upstairs in order to look for a plain shirt and a sweater he’s willing to let go. The weather isn’t exactly pleasant and Stiles did sleep shirtless on the floor so he’s probably already caught a cold. Derek feels that if he already provided shelter for Stiles then he may as well make sure he doesn’t cause him harm at all for as long as possible.

When he’s back downstairs he finds himself also making Stiles a to-go cup of coffee.

Stiles is sitting on the couch looking freshened up. Derek offers him the clothes first.

“Dude. Wow, thank you.” He pulls the shirt on. “I can’t even- I’m _so_ sorry. I can’t believe I bothered you in the middle of the night. I can’t believe I bothered you at _all_!”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. I am _truly_ apologetic over here.”

“Okay, I accept your apology. Just count yourself lucky I live here alone.”

“Oh, thank god!”

Derek quirks an eyebrow, not sure if Stiles’ response is exaggerated or genuine.

“I mean, no! I meant _thank god_ I didn’t bother anyone else. Not that I’m glad you live alone and single. Because, you know, you could live alone and have a long distance relationship. Or you could be single but living with a family member. I’m just saying, there’s no correlation. None, whatsoever… Even if there was, I mean… I wouldn’t care. Cuz, that’s _none of my business._ Wow. Fuck. _Why am I still talking?”_

Stiles is being an idiot Derek feels like he has the upper hand here. He really does. Yet, there is a growing lump in his throat and his heart is beating fast. People aren’t usually this upfront when flirting with him.

It’s silent for a moment, both looking away from each other and asking for the world to swallow them up.

Derek finally remembers the coffee in his hand so he clears his throat, “This is for you.”

“Th-” Stiles’ voice _actually_ breaks, “Thanks.”

“Do you have someone to call or should I call a cab?”

“Uh, no neither. There’s a bus stop nearby that will drop me off near my building.”

“Sounds good.” Derek remembers the twenty from last night so he knows Stiles is all set to go. Yet, they both remain standing in the middle of the silent room.

“Again-” Stiles begins just as Derek says, “If you-”

They laugh and Derek motions for him to continue.

“I just want to thank you again. I mean, you didn’t have to let me in at all, and I would’a deserved it honestly. I just feel like I owe you my life.”

Derek shrugs, feeling exposed. But for the first time in forever, that feeling doesn’t bother him. “Well, I’m single.”

Stiles tilts his head in confusion for a fraction of a second before his face lights up in realization. “Oh. _Oh._ So uh, would you happen to be free for dinner tonight so I can take you out to thank you properly?”

“Yes.”

“Really? Cool.”

Derek smiles and rolls his eyes. If it wasn’t for their situation – Stiles being legal enough to get drunk off his ass – Derek would have doubted Stiles was even old enough to take him out anywhere. “Cool.”

“I’m Stiles, by the way.” Stiles says as he waves a hand awkwardly and cracks a crooked smile.

Derek’s facial muscles are aching, possibly because he never smiled this much in a short period of time. “Derek.”


End file.
